“I’m sorry to be so late. I was reading through some paperwork… Time got away from me.”
Cecily pulled herself up to a straighter position now that she was awake. When she pushed the blanket away, Stephen realized she was not wearing the red negligée.
She wore a black one.
It had thin little straps and appeared to be as equally transparent as the red one.
“You have not changed your mind then?” she asked.
“Have you?” he countered.
“I admit to having second thoughts… and third ones… and fourth ones… but, no, I have not changed my mind.”
They both sat looking at each other somewhat awkwardly. Finally, Stephen stood up and reached out a hand to her. “Well, then, I suppose we ought to set the stage for this affair. Flavion could be home anytime now.” Her hand felt warm and fragile.
“Will you check the door to Flavion’s room?” she asked him as she climbed onto the large canopied bed. “This will all be for naught if the door remains locked.” At that, she gave him a wan smile.
Stephen opened the door, checked the lock, and then closed it again. For good measure, he opened it again and left it slightly ajar.
Cecily had climbed into the covers but had not pulled them up around her yet. Large green eyes watched him uncertainly. Her slender calves and knees were exposed as the nightgown rode up slightly. Hints of what lie beneath the gown were revealed by the thin fabric.
“You might wish to avert your eyes, my lady. I don’t wear anything when I go to bed. I cannot imagine Flavion would believe anything were going on between the two of us if I suddenly took to wearing a nightshirt.”
Turning to look anywhere but at him, Cecily tucked her legs into the blanket. “Of course. Oh yes, of course.”
“Ought I to put out the candles?” he asked after discarding his dressing gown.
Flave’s countess glanced over at him. When he turned back toward her, he was caught by her stare. She did not avert her eyes as he’d suggested. No, she seemed entranced as she looked him over thoroughly.
The platonic nature he’d intended to impose upon this encounter suddenly lost its appeal completely. Why were they only going topretendto have an affair?
Oh, yes. Because Flave was his cousin.
And Cecily’s husband.
Stephen tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs felt very tight indeed. Cecily was looking up at him with her soft pink lips parted and a small flush on her normally delicate porcelain skin.
“I already thought of that,” she said, shaking him out of the trance he’d fallen into. “It would be best to leave them lit so I’ve placed them on larger platters. They can simply burn themselves down. I’ve placed the grate in front of the fire, as well.”
Cecily turned away and made a good show of fluffing her pillow and pulling the covers up to her chin. Stephen climbed in on the other side and then looked about the bed, a bit disgruntled.
“This bed is large enough that we might as well be in entirely separate chambers.” On that note, he crawled over to her side and relaxed behind her. “If Flavion is going to believe you and I are actually having an affair, we will have to look like lovers, my lady.”
Once embarked upon a task, Stephen would not address it in half measures.
When she was within reach, he pulled her back up against him. She didn’t protest, but he felt her tense beneath his touch when he untied the ribbon at the end of her braid. He’d not thought any of this through earlier, but as the necessary details of this charade came to him, he was not reluctant to put them into place. Mesmerized, he used his fingers to gently unplait the silken strands and draw them out about them both. “No man worth his salt would allow you to keep this bound up while he made love to you.”
He felt her breathing change, her back pressed against his bare chest. His hands continued moving down her arm, along her hip, a soft caress of her thigh. Everything logical inside of him screamed out that this was definitely not part of their pact. Another part of himself reasoned that if he were going to play the role of her lover, he ought to put his best, er… foot forward. He could stop before it went too far. What would it hurt to take some pleasure from each other first?
What he hadn’t bargained on, however, was the unpredictable nature of Cecily Nottingham.
For as he lifted his hand to bring it back up to her hair, she twisted in his embrace and faced him.
Her lips looked soft, moist, welcoming. Her eyes were partly shuttered, and her hands had slid up his abdomen to rest against his chest. Her fingers plucked gently at the smattering of hair she discovered there.
And then she tilted her head back and gazed into his eyes.
With a groan, he gave into the desire he only just now would acknowledge to himself.
